


Fear's Fear

by DrbWrite



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prompt Fill, Supernatural Elements, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8433268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrbWrite/pseuds/DrbWrite
Summary: Based on this prompt from the writing-prompt-s tumblr:Take an abstract concept of a greatest fear (drowning, buried alive, burnt alive) and turn it into a solid creature. What is that creatures biggest fear?Along that vein, I wrote.





	

He had come to cause many pain since the time of his inception. He knew not the specific time that he came into being, but he knew it was right before his first. He could recall being confused about what was occurring. He didn’t at that time know that it was his duty to come when called, and grant his gift to those who saw fit to call on him.

It was a quiet night, a crowd of mourners passed him by as he stood watching a patch of freshly spread dirt, the wind a soft caress, carrying whispers of dark, dark things…a dark curdling began in his chest and spread like a virus through his limbs, pulling, stretching, squeezing. His body, for all that the vessel could be called a body, bulged and stretched beyond his control, bringing odd popping and tearing and tightening sensations. He could hear his breathing; it was getting faster, his heart aflutter in his chest. His eyes opened to complete darkness, faint scratching and minute vibrations. The darkness seemed to be all encompassing, surrounding him from all sides, closing in on him, like a hungry beast eager for the taste of freshly spilt blood. It came to cover his arms. He lifted his heavy hands before his face… He couldn’t see them. He was blinded by the darkness, its insidious vines seeping into his eyes, taking over, keeping his sight from his reach. He could feel the weight that the darkness brought, the constant push, with force, force, force, preventing him from lifting his hands from where they had fallen. The fabric that rubbed at his exposed skin was rough in feel, like grass scratching at the back of his neck. Over the pounding of his heart in his ears, he could faintly hear his own raspy breaths slowing, becoming hoarser and fainter by the second, until…he knew no more.

It was along that vein that he experienced life. He bogged the footsteps of those that would invoke his name, be it spoken or thought. His name was less of a collection of letters or words, but an emotion, a feeling, a thought, an idea, a concept. He had never been formally named as was the custom of humans, but rather, he knew when he was called through instinct and a great pull, as though gravity belonged to the invoker, and they were constantly pulling him to them. 

His physical form wasn’t very corporeal, but it fulfilled its purpose of making the invoker aware of his presence. He didn’t have nails on his hands, as his hands were constantly curled in on themselves, broken, bloodied, with splinters piercing the flesh all throughout. He didn’t have a voice, merely wheezing, a throat sore and scarred from screams never heard. His lips were a mess of flesh, torn apart, with blood flowing constantly, and his teeth stained crimson from exposure. He was blind, but he saw everything around him. His eyes were mere representations, a decoration as it were, for the pervasive darkness that accompanied his every step.

It was as he walked-moved-flowed that he came to know true fear. The invoker was young. Small, fragile, pathetic. It was crying, leaking fluids from the ducts in its eyes, mucous draining from its nasal cavities, soaking its face in its own bodily juices. A pungent stench reached his senses, as the creature soiled itself in fear. It was screaming, as he once-always-never did. Its voice was growing faint, as though it had moved further away from him, and he saw another who would be taken in penance for his purpose. He walked-moved-flowed around the room, gazing occasionally at the small form that was hidden from natural sight under the sealed wood and plastic covering. He glanced with curious dark eyes at the equipment that filled all the surfaces of the room. He found himself grasping and gripping with bloodied hands the vials and test tubes that were in the waste basket of the place of living. 

Suddenly, the human ceased its functioning. He gathered himself and prepared to walk-move-flow to the next believer that would call upon him, the glass containers falling from his hands. The shattering of glass and the rising vapours were easily ignored, as he found himself inexplicably drawn to the dead creature. There was no reason for this attention, for it no longer had mind to call upon him. He found himself scanning the creature and its vessel. It was bruised, its nude body mottled and covered in wounds and fresh scars. He gazed deeper, and recognized that something was not quite occurring as standard. The creature was moving once more, with little hitching breaths starting again, heedless of the lack of oxygen. Its head rose from its bowed position, as blank eyes stared at him. He felt for the first time, a strum in his chest. His breathing started up, following the pattern of the young human, and he could feel dampness on his face. The pull was upon him at once, and he was glad to go, until he realized that the pull was betraying him. It was dragging him, painfully, grasping and clawing and gripping him tightly as it dragged him by his feet. He hit the floor, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the tarpaulin covered floor, as he was pulled. His fingers left smears of blood, but would find no solid anchorage, and so he relaxed his arms, and felt them battering across the floor as he finally felt himself turn intangible and unaware as his spirit was breathed in by the dead creature. 

It was unsettling. He could feel the lubrication that allowed the eyeballs to move so freely in their sockets, as he gazed at the new array of colours he could see. He could feel the thump-thump-thump of his heart, practically bursting at the seams within his small chest. An agonizing flame seared his arms as he lifted them, the wounds he had seen earlier stretching, pulling, then tearing, releasing rivers of blood that warmed him face as the droplets fell. Nevertheless, he pushed-pushed-pushed at the wooden door. He realized that the one who left the child here must have not realized that the room had no source of ventilation. It was plain to see that the child had been meant to live. There was a mattress in the room, covered in blood and sweat and other fluids hinted at in the muskiness of the room. There was a blood drenched book, next to an animal feeding implement full of sludgy sustenance. The child was meant to sleep when not required to provide service, and eat and drink the provided consumables. The child was to be content with the scarce entertainment provided by the small collection of glue, string, and paper. He wasn’t going to die. Not like the pathetic human, whose flesh he inhabited. He wouldn’t be held down and hidden away. He wouldn’t allow it. He ignored the various pains that the body had, each of a different intensity, as he beat at the door with all the force he had in his hands. The door shook and offered faint cracks, as his hands bruised and bled and crumpled beneath the force of his motions. Still he would not give up. He would get out of this room, this sack of meat and return to his place as an invoked fear. He would, he would, he would….

He didn’t know what he would do otherwise. So focused and limited was he by the conceptual restraints of his body, he didn't hear the thud-thud-thud of footsteps until they were right above him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I should leave as is or continue. It seems interesting. 
> 
> The reason why Buried-alive is upset by the inhabitation of a human body is the fact that, as an intangible, unexplainable, immortal presence summoned by fear, it would be scary to lose all of that an be, in essence, buried alive in a human body, which is temporary and mortal and all that jazz.
> 
> Lemme know what you think! <3


End file.
